


Tentacle Ficlets

by nirejseki, robininthelabyrinth (nirejseki)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Adult Content, Elder God, Eldritch Abomination, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Random Snippets, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/robininthelabyrinth
Summary: Someone was complaining that the Flash/Legends fandom was short on tentacle fics. This is my attempt to remedy that, because I can't resist a challenge. Rating differs by chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet one, for the prompt: I saw the tentacle post and I had a terrible thought - tentacle speedsters tripping all over the place too many new limbs and so many wacky situations 
> 
> Pairing: Len/Barry/Mick/Iris

“Honestly, someone should have questioned this whole Speed Force thing a _long_ time ago,” Len says. 

“Now is not the time,” Iris tells him.

“No, really,” Len says. “Dark matter leading to unusual powers is one thing, but there being an actual _entity_ that none of us can really understand – or, if I’m understanding the stories correctly, even perceive since it always appears wearing the face of someone else – that’s behind all of speedster powers is apparently a thing, and no one questioned it?”

“ _Not the time_ , boss,” Mick says.

“Well, when _are_ we going to discuss it, then?” Len asks. It’s a perfectly logical question, in his mind. “No one questioned it when Barry started time travelling. No one questioned it when Barry created literal doubles of himself – doubles doomed to die, which, by the way, _creepy_. No one questioned it when Barry literally gave himself to the Speed Force to put into a trap which previously no one had heard about. No one questioned it when he started speaking in tongues. No one questioned – mmmphf!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this about the tentacle monster currently intent on _breeding_ with us using said tentacles,” Iris says. “But thanks for shutting him up, Barry.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Iris,” Barry says. His puppy-brown eyes are as loving as ever. 

“How about letting the lady go, then?” Mick asks.

“I couldn’t do that!” Barry exclaims. “I love you. I love _all_ of you. That’s why it’s important –”

“That you impregnate us with the Speed Force so that we can be together forever,” Iris says. “Yes. You mentioned. Several times. _In public_.”

“Would it have been better not to have been in public?”

“Lady like Iris doesn’t always want her kinky side aired out,” Mick says, and he would almost sound reasonable if he wasn’t lolling back quite happily on the ground, his legs spread apart, grunting every few seconds as another one of the long, lithe tentacles Barry now sported instead of legs rams deeper into him. His hands are pinned together over his head, held in place by another tentacle, but he’s not exactly doing very much resisting. "Not like some of us, who want attention so much they have to be stopped from begging for it."

Len grumbles around the tentacle in his mouth. He's on his knees next to Mick. Barry was considerate enough to let him keep most of his clothing on, knowing his preference to not be unclothed in public – or as public as the main room in STAR Labs with the door locked would be considered to be, since Iris insisted they retreat at least _that_ far – but that consideration really only made things worse for the other two watching. One tentacle was wrapped around Len's chest, keeping his arms at his side, two more forcing him to kneel and keeping his legs splayed open to show off how hard he was underneath all those layers, and a fourth one almost shyly dipping in past his waistband as if to see what’s down there – the effect of the movement under his clothing almost more obscene than Mick’s easy-going nudity. 

And, of course, there’s the tentacle that just started gagging Len, filling his mouth as it moved in and out as Len moans around it. Can’t forget about that one. 

"He does look good with his mouth full," Barry says wistfully.

Len wiggles a little bit to get them all to look at his hand, which he promptly uses to flips Barry off, but from the way his hips jerk forward in approval, he clearly doesn’t object all that much.

Iris sighs at Len’s antics.

Well, it’s half a sigh and half a moan, because she really did have a bit of a very specific hentai kink (that she apparently shares with Mick Rory – who knew?) and while she didn’t really _expect_ her “for better or for worse” vows to include tentacles, much less tentacles that Barry initially _tripped over_ when he runs but has clearly gotten the hang of using, she’s not exactly _objecting_ , either.

Let's be clear, she really wasn’t expecting the Speed Force to turn out to be an eldritch monster of the Lovecraftian variety or for certain aspects of that eldritch-ness to slide into Barry through their link, but, well, that’s her life now apparently.

It's not _noticeably_ weirder than time-travelling superheroes, no matter what Len says. 

Iris herself is about halfway between Len and Mick right now – both literally and figuratively. She’s half-naked, her shirt and bra torn to pieces (she’s going to yell at Barry about that later) and her breasts hanging free. Barry’s cupping them with his still-human hands, and that would be pretty normal for them – Barry’s always loved her breasts – except for the fact that he’s also got tentacles curling up her thighs. They’re not penetrating her yet: the touches are teasing, tempting, and right now she’s riding what can only be described as the tentacle equivalent of Barry’s thigh in a vain attempt to actually get some action going down there. 

Watching two very attractive supervillains getting happily railed right in front of her is only making her more eager to get to the main event, but she has the distinct suspicion that her good little Barry is waiting for her explicit permission to go ahead. 

He’s going to get it eventually, yeah, but Iris West is nothing if not stubborn.

And possibly enjoying torturing herself with the pretense that this is a lot less consensual than it actually is.

She has a _thing_ , okay?!

“You guys are okay with this, right?” she checks in with Len and Mick. 

Mick arches his hips up, demonstrating how hard he is and the tentacle Barry’s got wrapped around his cock, pumping lazily to reward him for being the most appreciative of Barry’s new features. 

Len just arches his eyes at her like she’s being stupid, which probably means he’s having fun with the same roleplay she is. Possibly with even more roleplay than she is, given how much he’s very evidently enjoying being forced to kneel before the big evil Barry. 

…damn Barry for knowing their weak spots.

“The Speed Force is going to be so good to you,” Barry murmurs in her ear, one of his hands slipping down to dance _right above_ where she’d really like him to be. “ _I’m_ gonna be so good to you. You’ll see. You’re gonna love it. It’s going to be great.”

“This is probably a bad decision,” Iris says. She really ought to keep resisting until Cisco and Caitlin come up with a cure for this. 

...resisting until all the fun is gone, that is.

Oh, well.

At least Joe is out of town. 

“Almost certainly,” Mick agrees. 

“Mmm-hmmm,” Len affirms.

“Is that a yes?” Barry asks eagerly.

“…ugh, _yes_ already,” Iris says. “C’mon, baby, breed me good.”

And then she groans as one of those tempting tentacles finally _slides_ in, big and thick and pulsing. 

“Oh yeah,” she says. “Right there, right _there_ – wait. Just to be sure, this breeding isn’t going to result in, like, actual _children_ is it?”

“I was thinking twins?” Barry says.

“Oh _hell_ no.”


	2. constantine spell gone wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for daughterofscotland's prompt: I give you a spell by Constantine gone horribly wrong. Tentacles and sex pollen on the waverider
> 
> Constantine/Mick Rory, some Gideon
> 
> sorry it's short

“You just couldn’t resist, could you,” Mick says, shaking his head. The door next to him keeps shaking as the battering ram on the other side tries to force its way into the room.

“In my defense, I didn’t realize it would go this wrong,” Constantine says His back is to the door, and he keeps flinching every time the door makes a noise. “If you’d _told_ me there was an already existing golem spirit on board…”

“You saw Gideon,” Mick says. “I _saw_ you see Gideon.”

“Yes, well, mate, I didn’t realize she was a golem spirit instead of a robot, you catch me? So sue me.”

“She’s a proper AI,” Mick says. “A mind capable of actual thought but artificially created by man. What exactly do you think a golem spirit is?”

Constantine makes a face at him. “At least you’re taking this calmly.”

“Sara tried to kill you?”

“Nicked me with one of those throwing blades of hers, right before she went under,” Constantine confirmed. 

“Yeah, about that,” Mick says. “I get you forgetting about our AI being the modern equivalent of a golem and that calling for the nearest spirit to incarnate in a more appropriate form. But my one question is: where does the sex pollen come in?”

“It was a necessary spell component,” Constantine protests. “It wasn’t supposed to become _activated_ – also, _that’s_ your one question? Not ‘why did the AI incarnate into a gigantic tentacle monster intent on getting to know all its passengers intimately’?”

“Nah,” Mick says. “They all secretly want to be tentacle monsters. Glitch of the creation process. Blame Barry Allen. He had a kink.”

“Okay, that sounds like a right old fascinating story,” Constantine says. “I’ve got a better question, though: how, exactly, do you _know_ that? Not about Allen. About the AIs secretly wanting to - you know.”

Mick smirks. “Oh,” he says. “I’ve been riding these babies around for a long time now. Ain’t nothing under their hoods I haven’t seen at least once.”

“Even tentacles?”

“Oh yeah,” Mick says. “Even tentacles. Don’t worry, it’s all in good fun.”

“If you think it’s all in good fun, why’d you lock yourself in here with me?” Constantine demands.

“I wanted some answers,” Mick replies with a shrug. “And besides – I think, strictly speaking, you locked yourself in here with _me_. Or should I say, _us_?”

Constantine turns and sees the entirely open secondary way in that Mick had been concealing behind his back. Specifically, the one through which several very menacing mechanical tentacles had made their way in.

“Oh, you _wanker_ ,” Constantine says, not without some admiration, even as he feels the sex pollen fill his lungs. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick says. “You know you want it – light your cigarette on my fire totem powers, my _ass_ …”

Constantine cracks a smile. “Oh, all right,” he says. “You’ve got a point there.”


	3. coldatomwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Tentacles? I am definitely there for more tentacle fic! I have a few random prompts for more tentacles in the dctv verse. Coldflash: post!oculus Len comes back with a few additions Coldwave/Atomwave/Coldatomwave: Mick is an elder god who forgot what he was. He just remembered. Atom/?: Ray makes a teeny tiny miscalculation. Oops? (But tentacles are cool. Right?) 
> 
> Pairing: Coldatomwave

They didn’t invite people to their bed often. 

It’s not that they didn’t like to share – they did – but it was just such a pain finding someone who they both wanted enough to go through all the hassle of, well, _explaining_.

Not to mention _preserving_.

But Mick liked Ray. He’d liked him from the start, when Ray had tried to sacrifice himself for Mick’s benefit, just like he ought to. Len had been a little jealous at first, of course – _he_ was the one who sacrificed for Mick, damnit – but then Len’d gone and done the biggest sacrifice of them all, dying at the Oculus in Mick’s place.

Mick appreciated the thought, even though he didn’t like the fact that Len needed to spend a few years putting himself back together, after that. 

But, well, by the time Len finally came back, even he had to admit that Ray’d been doing a good job taking of Mick.

Even if he didn’t entirely understand _exactly_ what it was that Mick needed. 

They’d seen the quiet heartbreak in Ray’s eyes when they’d retreated to Mick’s room together, hand in hand, but Mick was hungry to get back into the arms of his oldest and most favored worshipper, and Len just as eager to get back to the business of worshipping.

But now they’d sated themselves (at least for the first round, anyway) and their talk turned to Ray. 

His friendly loyalty. His steadfastness. His _enthusiasm_. 

Yes, perhaps he would work.

Perhaps he would even _stay_.

Intact, that is.

“It’s worth a shot,” Len agreed. 

Mick smiled, and reached up to the headboard. A touch is enough for him to warp the mechanical mind that governs the ship to his will – he doesn’t even really need to do that much, but why take any risks when he's willing to extert himself a little? – and Gideon politely informed Ray that he was wanted in Mick’s room immediately.

Ray had no idea how true that was.

He protested, citing Len’s presence, but Gideon repeated the invitation and stressed the immediacy of it, and so Ray overcame his reluctance and made his way to Mick’s room.

He walked inside and froze at the sight of the two men lounging in bed, the blankets covering Len up to his chest but only one of Mick’s legs. They were both clearly naked. 

“Uh, I, oh, I,” Ray stuttered. “I thought Mick wanted me –”

He tried to retreat, but the door slammed shut behind him and locked. 

“He does,” Len drawled.

“I do,” Mick agrees. “Want you.”

He gestured to the center of the bed between them.

“You – wait. You’re inviting me…?”

“Yes.”

“You guys want to have a threesome with me?” Ray asked.

Len sighed. “No,” he said patiently. He hadn't understood either, at first. “You and me, we’re both good worshippers, and Mick here, Mick likes worship. That’s what we’re inviting you to do. Or are you telling me you don’t want to go down onto your knees for him right now?”

He looked pointedly at Ray, who found himself unable to lie, staring as he was at Mick's uncovered body. 

“You telling me,” Len continued, lips curling into a smirk as Ray’s telling silence continued, “that you haven’t wanted to do this from the very start? I know you, Raymond. You can be so good when you want to be. And Mick likes it when you’re good for him, you know that?"

Ray's eyes go a little wider.

So do his legs.

Len grins. "Oh yeah," he says, satisfied. "Mick likes it when you feast your eyes on him like you can’t get enough. And Mick’s going to like it when you get down on your knees and crawl to us now.”

Ray gulped.

“Or you could turn around and go,” Len added, waving a hand. "If you want."

The door behind Ray unlocked with a loud click.

“Your choice,” Mick said. He’s lying back on the pillows, his body language loose but his eyes intent. His body is on display: the twisted burn scars, the muscles glistening with sweat, even his thick cock resting on his thigh. “But as Snart here likes to say: if you’re in, you’re in. No turning back.”

Ray swallowed.

He did not go.

He went to his knees, and he crawled.

“Good boy,” Mick said, reaching out to cup Ray’s head. “Very good.”

Ray mewled a little. He was hard already. He’d been hard since he walked into the room.

“You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?” Mick asked. “You’re going to be my good little worshipper, right?”

Ray nodded.

“Say it,” Mick said.

“ _Swear_ it,” Len said.

“I swear,” Ray said, his eyes locked on Mick, filled with love. “I’m yours. I’m your worshipper.”

Mick smiled, and his smile had too many teeth.

“Good,” he said, and the great inky darkness at the heart of him spilled out into the room, spilling past flesh and into soul, and Ray had only moments of realization that something was not as he had expected before he was drowning in that immense power, power that curled itself around him, filling him with pleasure beyond human imagination, and whispering in his ear that Ray done well - so well - to agree, that now it would all be his; he would be loved as he had never been loved before, that he would see his darkest dreams come true, that he would never be alone again: he would be Mick’s, always, through life and beyond death. 

He would never again feel as though he did not belong.

“Oh god yes,” Ray moaned, even as his mind began to fracture beneath the weight of that darkness. “Yes, please, _yes_ –”

Mick laughed, and the darkness laughed with him.

“I’ll show you,” Len said to Ray, all eagerness now. He remembered his own first time; it had been much the same. “I’ll show you how to pleasure him best, how to worship him properly; you’ll love it. It’s so good, Raymond; it’s _so good_.”

“Yes,” Ray whimpered, unable to think, unable to do anything but agree. “Yes.”

Len pulled him onto the bed. “Tonight I’ll show you the ropes,” he said. “And all you need to do is lie here and enjoy. You - _we_ \- can do something a little more – _exciting_ – next time around.”

Ray nodded. He let Len arrange his limbs, pulling and pushing him until he’s on his hands and knees, his legs apart – his clothing has dissolved, he notices, but he doesn’t know when that happened. 

“Look,” Len said encouragingly, and he made sure Ray was looking when he coaxed out a long thick strand of darkness from the morass that surrounded them in the room: long and thick and heavy, smooth as glass but Ray could feel the warmth of it. 

He could feel the warmth of it as Len coaxed it up to his entrance, smoothing the way for it with his fingers, and pushing it in with a slick ease that should be impossible, but Ray felt no pain: there was nothing but pleasure, pleasure and the promise of more pleasure, endless pleasure. The feeling of _Mick_ inside of him at last, where it ought to be, and Ray’s legs trembled as he took him in deep, deeper than he’d ever had anything or anyone. 

“You’re doing good,” Mick rumbled. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“You can do more,” Len said encouragingly. “Would you like him in your mouth, too?”

Ray nodded furiously. He could do things with his mouth: he was clever with his tongue, everyone was always saying so. He could please Mick that way, he could show him his affection, his devotion. 

No, not devotion.

_Worship_.

Yes. 

Len pulled another tendril of darkness out and brought it to Ray’s lips, which parted willingly to let Len push it onto his tongue. For a moment, it tasted of the first breath of night air, and then it solidified, turning hot and pulsing on his tongue – hot the way Ray had always imagined Mick would be hot, even if this wasn’t exactly the way he’d imagined it going. But now that it was, he can’t imagine ever being contented with anything else.

“Good,” Len said, moving the tendril in and out of Ray’s lips before releasing it, watching with satisfaction as Ray’s head bobbed up and down, tongue moving, lips moving, spit slicking the corners of his mouth. “Oh, good. You picked a good one this time, Mick.”

“I know I did,” Mick said, pleased. He ran his hands down Ray’s sides, and Ray moaned around him. “He’s very good, this one. I’m going to keep him with me always.”

Len smiled. 

“You can do a little more,” he said to Ray, who cracked open an eye to look at him in confusion. The confusion faded as Len helped Ray sit back onto his heels, sinking deeper onto the thick tendril spiking him open, freeing his hands to take one tendril in each one – Len showed Ray how to pull them forth himself – and then Ray could use his hands, too.

He could not speak to show Len his gratitude, but he murmured it around the tendril still between his lips.

Len understood regardless. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, sliding forward until their hips were aligned, his hard cock sliding against Ray’s. Their true pleasure was in serving Mick, of course, but Mick enjoyed their bodily pleasure as well. “You don’t need to thank me. There’s enough to go around. “

“Yes,” Mick said as the tendrils of darkness reached out for Len, too. He would have them all night like this, using hole after hole, filling them with spurts of darkness that dribbled down their thighs and their mouths and slicked their hands, darkness that would only increase their desire for more. More pleasure, more darkness, more _Mick_. More chance to worship him: their only desire, now. “There’s more than enough.”

And the god looked upon his worshippers and was pleased.


End file.
